


Plant Your Feet

by neverendingdrums



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Basketball, Billy Hargrove Being an Asshole, Billy Hargrove Has a Crush on Steve Harrington, Billy is still an asshole, Bisexual Billy Hargrove, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Blow Jobs, Dirty Thoughts, Dubiously Consensual Blow Jobs, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time Blow Jobs, Gay, M/M, One Shot, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Public Blow Jobs, Sexual Content, Sexual Fantasy, Sexual Tension, Shameless Smut, Shower Sex, Smut, Wet Dream, if it goes well maybe more, why do i ship them so much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2019-09-12
Packaged: 2020-10-17 02:09:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20613206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neverendingdrums/pseuds/neverendingdrums
Summary: Billy Hargrove is a fucking asshole, but somehow it's hard to think straight when your enemy is naked in the next shower.





	Plant Your Feet

**Author's Note:**

> CW: The consent is sketchy, but it's mutual desire, I promise. In real life, consent is always cool!  
Some 80s-typical mild internalised homophobic thoughts. Steve ain't homophobic though - just a bit shocked.

It wasn’t until Steve was up late last night, fuming about all the ways he could make Hargrove pay for the broken nose and bloodied face he had inflicted, did it occur to him that he might be into Hargrove.  
  
Because, somehow, every time Steve lay awake at night, plotting his revenge, he imagined laying his fists into Billy. Punching Billy's lights out and humiliating him the way he did to him. That was quite a normal thing to think. What wasn’t normal was that in every single scenario, Billy was naked. At first it was only without a shirt – you know, that asshole had never heard of actually buttoning UP the shirts, it was a pretty typical thing to think- but then somehow the scenarios evolved into taking place in the showers after gym, after the other guys had already showered and left.  
  
_All_ of the scenarios.  
  
‘Hey, Harrington,’ Hargrove goaded from the next shower, running his hands through his long red hair, the spray of water trickling down his glistening well-defined arms and chest.

‘How’s that nose I gave you?’ 

Billy’s blue eyes glinted and raked Steve’s nonplussed, bruised face for a reaction to his words, flashing a quick grin with his tongue sticking out before, and - satisfied with the reaction he got - turned away. 

‘Fuck off, Hargrove,’ he retorted bluntly, after a moment’s thought about a clever comeback and failing.  
  
This had the opposite effect.  
  
Billy’s dangerous face drew closer in a sneer. Those devilish blue eyes met his and he licked his lips. The danger that hung on him like cologne made Steve’s pulse quicken.  
  
‘Wow, King Steve, with comebacks like that, it’s no wonder I run this school now,’ he said silkily. He was only inches away from Steve’s breathless lips so that he turned his head and whispered softly in Steve’s ear. A shiver ran down his spine as Billy’s teeth grazed his earlobe.  
  
‘You know, Harrington, if you weren’t such a pretty little bitch, I think we’d get on well.’ 

Steve visibly shivered despite the warmth of the shower. Hargrove, clearly satisfied with the reaction he got, smirked and turned off Steve’s water. Again. This had fast become a habit.

Billy draped a white towel over his shoulder as he strolled away carelessly, water beading along his muscular arms, his defined back and finally, on his firm butt. It insulted Steve as it walked away, as cheeky and cocky as its owner, the equivalent of giving him the finger.  
  
Steve tore his eyes away from that ass.

He had to resist the urge to yell after him.

* 

_Thursday, fourth period, the showers_

  
  
Steve despised himself for how much he looked forward to fourth period on Thursday, when he would get to play basketball against Billy fucking Hargrove.

‘You ready to take me, Harrington? Come and get it,’ he would trash talk, while Steve had to actively work to transform the blood rush to blood lust. The bang of the basketball made his head pound.

‘Oh yeah? Just you wait, Hargrove,’ he yelled back. Rather lamely, he thought.

The words hung in the air for a second before Billy charged Steve’s defence in a lay-up, pummelling through him and knocking him to the ground. Billy whooped in triumph with a couple of the other morons and circled around with a gloating expression to the floored Steve. Mr Wright - hungover and smelling like an ashtray - as always, did not bother calling the foul.

Steve tried hard not to think of the feeling of Billy’s hard, sweaty body on his when he charged and how vulnerable he was now. And how much that excited him.  
  
Was he Billy Hargrove’s bitch?

He barely remembered the rest of the game, he was trying so hard to ignore that cocky red-head and his bare chest with a faint sheen of sweat.  
  
*

Steve coughed and turned the squeaky tap, the gush of water hitting him and washing away his fevered thoughts. He survived.

But behind him, as if on cue, he heard him.  
  
This time though, it seemed that Hargrove was hyped from the game and having difficulty controlling his mouth.

‘Enjoy that, Harrington? You really need to learn to plant your feet,’ he sneered, far too close for a normal male-male interaction in the communal shower. This time he came right up to Steve and slapped the mark on his neck, one of the remaining scars from the beating he had given him at the Byers’ house.

Again, as Billy did all the time now, he turned off the water for Steve’s shower, this time whipping his long hair around like a wet dog’s and flicking the towel on Steve’s bare cheek. As he laughed and started to walk away, finally the anger and frustration that Steve was feeling bubbled to the surface in words.  
  
‘Suck my dick, you asshole.’

He stopped. Steve was briefly smug before fear washed over him with the water when he saw the redhead turn his head with an expression of fury. It was an abrupt shift from a smug bully to a predator.  
  
He turned all the way back to Steve and Steve was breathless as he felt the cold fury hit him.  
  
Billy’s voice echoed in the small change room when he paced slowly up to Steve like a wolf, his upturned nose right against his.

‘What the fuck did you say, Harrington?’ he said softly.  
  
With the intensity of his glare, his face ferocious and that wandering tongue licking his lips in anticipation, Billy was way too close for comfort. Steve flushed hot. Blood was pounding, and rapidly heading south. He cleared his throat and tried to make it not sound strained.  
  
‘I said, “suck my dick”,’ Steve said, trying to sound brash but sounding considerably smaller than before. It echoed wetly - pathetically - in the small locker room. He swallowed.

There was a long, long moment of silence, punctuated only by the sound of rushing water.  
  
Billy’s furious face was briefly unreadable. Then his mouth turned up in a slow, smirking charming grin that was full of mischief, clearly amused by Steve’s response. Had they been out of the shower, Steve would have had no doubt that that would be accompanied by the click and flame of a lighter.

‘Can’t do that, Harrington,’ he taunted nonchalantly, running a rough hand carelessly through Steve’s mane of hair. He tried to pretend to cringe away from his touch. His blue eyes dipped obviously to Steve’s very public betrayal between his legs.  
  
‘Little bitch like you couldn’t cope if I did,’ he grinned.

‘You’ll see,’ he added, before very suddenly dropping to his knees.

One second later and Steve felt that wordy, sneering mouth wrapped around his dick, sucking lavishly.

Steve was frozen in shock. One minute he thought Billy was about to floor him… and in next it was him on the floor in the public male shower, sucking his dick.

Fuck, fuck, _fuck._  
  
  
  
The surprise in that second, and the pleasure that instantly came from feeling the aggressive man’s wet mouth around him, almost caused him to buckle to his knees. Hargrove was fucking right about planting his feet.

This whole week was nonsense. Was he fucking gay? Nancy broke his heart less than two weeks ago, and the last time he felt her soft touch was fifteen days ago… and now Billy Hargrove was sucking his dick?  
  
He could not believe this was real. Yet when he looked down to his feet, he saw Hargrove’s muscular arms, chest and back, with that head of red hair bobbing around his dick, that uncontrollable tongue finally being used in the right ways. He let out a groan in spite of himself.  
  
That caused Hargrove to look up with those beautifully framed, blue eyes, surprisingly pretty for such raw masculinity. He could read the amusement and enjoyment in his eyes. Steve would never put himself as a dominant type, but there was something so fucking satisfying about seeing his arch-nemesis on his knees, red with the heat and dripping with water, sucking his dick.

He didn’t even know where this was coming from. Was it just spite and blackmail material? He wanted to think so, but somehow it seemed a little far-fetched for Billy to go to this length just for revenge. _His _length.

Steve groaned again in confusion and pleasure, but deeper this time. He let himself enjoy it more, gently fucking Hargrove’s restless mouth, which seemed eager to take more.  
  
Billy’s pace increased, expertly. He had clearly done this before, said a small part of Steve’s brain that wasn’t located between his legs.

He was starting to see stars.  
  
It was Hargrove’s rough hand reaching to lightly pull on his balls as he deep-throated Steve that finally pushed him over the edge and he let himself go with a moan of relief, spilling into the redhead’s mouth in sudden jerks of release. Hargrove swallowed it all, gulping greedily. Through the haze of his orgasm, the water pressure penetrated his awareness once again and Steve realised he had sunk to his knees, which were painfully pressing against the hard yellow tiles.  
  
He barely had time to catch his breath when Hargrove suddenly slurped a mouthful of water and swished it around, rinsing before spitting it into Steve’s face, who was now at the same height on his knees too. He was about to be indignant but the redhead’s white sneering flash of a grin distracted him. The curly, bedraggled locks brushed his ear as Billy whispered into Steve’s ear again.

‘Told you to plant your feet, pretty boy.’ 

Before Steve had time to recover, Billy had already risen and sauntered off - satisfied with his work - leaving Steve still sunken, panting, on his knees on that dingy yellow-tiled floor, with water still running through his now thoroughly deflated hair. Water and sexual confusion pooled as he contemplated what fucking good blowjobs Billy Hargrove gave.  
  
  
What had he gotten himself into?

Steve suddenly awoke to a sticky bed in horror.


End file.
